


Rest Day

by naruhearts



Series: A Day In The Life [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Dean, Castiel and Dean Winchester are parents!, Dom Castiel/Sub Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Exhibitionist Dean, Fluff and Smut, Lots of MARRIED elements, M/M, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester, Married Couple, Married Life, Married Sex, Phone Sex, Romance, Smut, This fic was written for a Destiel Promptober Word of the Day: SHY, Top Castiel, but it took on a life of its own, mild exhibitionism, so now I may add subsequent installments to this series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 03:09:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12312597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naruhearts/pseuds/naruhearts
Summary: Dean Winchester has everything.A house. A daughter. A husband.It'sgoodto relax—if you catch his drift.Dean gets four days off, and he plans to spend his time wisely.





	Rest Day

**Author's Note:**

> As mentioned in the tags, this fic was written for the Facebook Destiel NaNoWriMo group's _Destiel Promptober 2017_. Participants write one work for each given Word of the Day.
> 
> While writing, I realized that I inadvertently created a Destiel AU I quite like. Dean and Cas wrote themselves (oh, the chemistry of these two), so we'll see how Part 2—and any future installment(s)—goes ;)
> 
> Word of the Day: SHY (there's barely anything Shy in this, but Promptober provides SUPER useful writing practice.)
> 
> Huge hugs and kisses to [Joy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTwistedWillow/pseuds/TheTwistedWillow) and [Sarah](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Emblue_Sparks/pseuds/Emblue_Sparks) for their constant _enthusiastic_ feedback and support. I finally grew the balls to post to AO3, so thank you!

“Lily! Don’t touch— _oh_ man,” Dean mumbles, a grin on his face as he fishes the remote out of the tank. Pretty white and blue Angelfish scatter, scales gleaming like iridescent pearls, and Lily giggles again, chubby fingers tapping glass, perched precariously on the edge of the maroon leather couch overlooking the extensive garden sprawled with daisies and chrysanthemums; the bees are ecstatic, buzzing from stem to stem.

“Sorry, Daddy.”

“S’okay, baby girl. Let’s call somebody special.”

Dean sits beside his daughter, looping one hand around her teeny waist. The other punches an office number and dials speakerphone.

“Professor Castiel Winchester speaking. Who’s this?”  

Dean clears his throat. He winks at Lily, who is jumping up and down; her butt wiggles onto Dean’s lap.

When he escalates his voice to a nasal Teletubby volume, Professor Winchester is silent.

“We need a new TV remote, dada.”

Lily squeals, hands curling into fists. “Is that—” she asks, and Dean shushes her, tongue peeking out from between his teeth.

Professor Winchester chuckles lowly, that rough grit showering Dean’s skin with tendrils of warmth.

“Hello, Dean. What happened?" 

“Aw! And here I thought you wouldn’t recognize me—”

“I _always_ recognize your voice, Dean,” Cas remarks, intonation vaguely amused, and Dean can see him rolling his eyes. “It’s hard to forget, especially if our daughter’s laughing at your silly antics through the phone.”

Dean clutches his chest, over-dramatic in his emotionality for Lily’s sake. “ _Silly_? You hear him, sweet pea? Your Pa’s calling me _silly_!”

Lily’s laughing so loud now, her beautiful face thrown back and blue eyes closed. “Daddy’s not silly, Pa!” she breathes in-between gurgles. Dean pulls her close, kissing her cheek, wet and noisy.

“See? You’re the one who’s silly, babe,” Dean tells his husband, chest aching from sheer fondness, and he just couldn’t wait until 5 o’clock. There was a Bee Festival in town—a grand festival which Cas, of course, immediately slated the family to attend, and it was also going to be Lily’s very first.

They still had four hours left. Cas was wrapping up his third undergraduate Chemistry lecture of the day, and Dean had booked four days off work this week. Benny was a kindred spirit, forcing Dean to lengthen his vacation to five days because “you work too hard, brother,” but Dean insisted that four was more than enough. After all, Dean and Cas interspersed their days off, refusing to hand Lily to a babysitter, and at the ripe young age of four years old, both parents wished to be as present—as active—as they possibly could. Countering the quite fatherless childhood they experienced themselves, Dean and Cas didn’t want her to face parental dysfunction.

They met at the university café through their mutual friend Charlie twelve years ago. Cas was still a Masters Chemistry student hoping to obtain his PhD, while Dean hadn’t yet opened his own auto shop, instead working to both earn his keep and pay his younger brother Sam’s college tuition under Bobby’s tutelage. Their fifth year together soon found Dean proposing to Cas on the eve of his birthday, and, naturally, he said yes.

However, the road to marriage wasn’t easy, and life often chose to keep them on their toes.

The Novaks—America’s leading political family that vied for a Republican presidential seat—were formidable, driven to shatter Dean and Cas’ profound relationship, and the Novak patriarchal system despised their gay son Castiel: the youngest in a long ancestral line of political Bible-thumping juggernauts who influenced American presidents by wielding an authoritarian fist.

Cas was adamant in staying away from the preconceived, pre-conditioned, and blindly pre-meditated path that the Novak children were intrinsically bound to. His fascination for molecular science—and thirst for freedom—moved him more than ugly politics ever could. As a result they severed ties with Cas, both financially and emotionally.

It hurt.

It hurt to see Cas fighting a daily onslaught of tears. Dean was there beside him—Cas’ grounding rock, ready to catch him once he fell, and Cas was grateful, expressing his love in boundless, intimate ways that Dean never imagined.

Eventually the gaping hole in Cas’ life was mended. His future academic career— _Dean_ —occupied all of his time, energy, and efforts. Sam, now a brilliant defense lawyer whose wife and former classmate Eileen was the Chair of Stanford’s Sociopsychological Rehabilitation Board, assisted Cas with post-doctoral research costs, and Dean couldn’t believe how lucky he was.

Back when they were dating, Cas had integrated early into the Winchester household—seamlessly and without fault. Soon, Dean wished to make him permanent.

A year after their engagement (and unwanted Novak family interference), Dean and Cas were married. Fast forward another year—their lovely cookie Lily Winchester came into their lives, razor-sharp blue eyes as curious as her Papa Cas’.

Dean sighs, happiness spreading within his bones.

He made it. No one in the whole wide world could replace his two beloved sunshines.

“—buy the new TV remote first thing tomorrow. Where was I? Okay, I asked her, ‘ _Why is it funny_?’ and she told me the joke. The joke was that oxygen and potassium went on a date. When the other molecules asked them how the date went, oxygen and potassium said it was ‘OK’. I didn’t think this joke was _too_ hilarious…OK isn’t even the proper chemical nomenclature for an oxygen-potassium reaction. Theoretically it dissociates into K plus and O minus, and—Dean? Are you still there?”

“Hmm, I am,” Dean murmurs, tone sugary-sweet as he cradles a sleepy Lily in his lap.

“Is something on your mind?” Cas tells him, his voice growing similarly intimate, hushed, and Dean can hear the tell-tale zip of his suitcase.

Pinks and peaches highlight the clouds through the window, Cas’ garden an ethereal presentation of rich colorful foliage, and a lone ladybug, cherry red armour dotted neatly, journeys across the orange petals.

“Nah, nothing serious. I’m just thinking ‘bout my luck.”

Cas hums, the jingle of keys turning a lock. 

“Why?”

“‘Cause of you. And Lily. We have the Bee Festival tonight—we’re goin’ as one big happy family and just...you two made my life lucky.” 

“Oh, Dean—I feel the same, though I’d rather attribute our ‘luck’ to hard work. Loyalty. Trust. You made yourself lucky by choosing.”

“Like choosing to propose to you?”

Cas’ responsive laugh, all brass and honey, further sparks Dean’s insides.

“Exactly.”

“God, just hurry up and come home, sweetheart. Lils can’t wait to see you.”

Dean pauses to glance down at Lily.

She’s napping.

And so Dean continues, licking his lips.

“ _I_ can’t wait to see you.”

Dean’s completely aware that his own breathing has shifted, an undercurrent of subtle yet palpable desperation coating his words, and Dean can sense the exact moment Cas picks up on it. 

“I know. I’m— _Dean_ …”

His name is a breathless rasp: an urgent chest-deep sound, like rattling stone and sandpaper, and the faint click of Cas’ car door signifies his husband’s control.

“You are impatient,” Cas states, demanding, a hint of scold.

Dean shivers, a smirk pulling at his mouth.

“Then teach me how to be patient.”

He carries Lily to her bedroom and covers her petite body beneath fluffy yellow blankets.

Dean closes her door.

His skin is rippling, charged with electric tension and utterly expectant. Cas’ steady panting on the other end of the line rouses his erection.

“Take off your clothes.”

“ _Fuck_ , Cas—” Dean growls, marching straight to their master bedroom and quickly divesting himself of his sweatpants and t-shirt before he crawls onto the memory foam mattress, phone beside his head, maroon threads dark in the dim light.

Dean moans throatily, back arching when his callused fingers close around his throbbing cock, purple at the tip, and pre-cum is already beading, trickling down thin veined tissue like a miniature stream. It feels _so_ damn good, _ah yes_ , and he plants the soles of his feet upon the bed, thumbing his slit and twisting his wrist—

Cas swears.

“Did I _tell_ you to touch yourself?”

“N-no sir,” Dean whimpers, reluctantly pulling his hand away mid-stroke. Once he does, he glides his palm up, up, happy trail coarse between his sticky fingers; he ventures over his abdomen, then his chest, and he tweaks his stiff nipples, swollen with arousal, crying out for his husband as he turns his head to the phone, vision warped. His cock twitches and another streak of pre-come escapes the tip, congealing, pooling near his balls. 

“ _Yeah_ , Cas, I—I need you!” Dean inhales, come glistening along the length of his body, and Cas makes tiny ‘ _Oh_ _’_ noises, Dean’s sanity unraveling by the second. In his mind, Dean pictures Cas—all flushed Greek olive skin, dark sex-swept hair and piercing ocean blue eyes—also touching himself yet strengthening his will as he drives out of the parking lot.

“Dean, _Dean_ , fuck, I want you to—uh—prep your ass. Get those fingers soaking wet for me. I’ll be home as soon as I can—”

Dean moans again, whines “Y-yes sir, yes” above the decisive roar of Cas’ engine, but Dean is too far gone to warn his husband about safe driving.  

He reaches for the lube on their nightstand, right past a quaint photograph of their wedding day. Dean is kissing Cas, passionate and true, arms clutching his waist. Cas’ hands frame Dean’s cheeks, that crinkled smile spilling exuberance, and Dean’s heart flutters, increasing his arousal.

He has to be a good boy.

Dean spreads his legs. Lube-coated fingers poke and prod at his flexing pucker, and the first breach of his middle finger, penetrating tight heat, rips an animalistic mewl from his parched throat.

Dean throws his head back, pleasure eating his nerves. _Shit fuck,_  he needs more, and his hips snap, pushing and shoving, establishing a dirty rhythm. Heavy breaths stutter each time he inserts an additional finger. Free hand gripping the blankets, two becomes three, four—

“ _Dean_ ,” a voice intrudes, and Dean’s head shoots upward, stare half-lidded. 

He spots Cas stroking himself, hard and already _naked_ as he watches Dean, and his clothes are in a crumpled heap by the door. 

Dean moans again, hips and fingers moving faster. “I was waiting for you, _oh_ , Cas!” he cries, and he lifts his trembling free hand, aching to touch his neglected cock. It’s a sad dark purple, fully engorged and spurting pre-come from the lack of relief like an uncontrollable geyser. His husband steps forward, taut tension visible in those broad tan shoulders.

“You didn’t hear me arrive. Yes, that’s it, Dean...you’re _so_ exquisite.” 

Dean’s skin heats, furnace-red due to the sudden onslaught of attention. He closes his eyes.

“My turn.”

Feeling Cas’ lithe form stretch over him, the mattress dips. Dean groans, hiding his face, thighs spread as far as possible, and Cas’ proximity stimulates him further, his own fingers replaced by crooked ones that plunge fast and deep—in and out, in and out of his wet hole. 

Bliss. 

“ _Fuck_! _”_

“Sh, it’s okay. Look at me. Such a good boy, following my instructions,” Cas whispers, voice impossibly gravel rough, and his lips brush Dean’s pulse point. “I think it’s time to reward your patience, hm? Do you agree?”

Dean gasps. 

Gorgeous arctic blue encourages him to comply.

Gaze wondrous—pushing his embarrassing neediness down—Dean drags Cas on top of him.

 

*~*~*~*

 

Their bedroom resonates: damp slapping noises, staccato grunts and keening moans intertwined together as Cas brings it home in pounding earnest snaps of his hips.

Thank god for soundproof walls.

He’s lifting and dropping all his weight on Dean, knees spread wide between his husband’s own, and Dean’s heels dig painfully into the back of Cas’ thighs, toes curling, each powerful thrust pushing Dean upward. His one arm is raised, palm pressed to the headboard. The other is wrapped tight around Cas’ torso, fingers flexing in tandem with the large cock that pistons rapidly inside him, and despite the many times they’ve had sex—both rough and lovingly slow—Cas could never stop being enamoured over his husband, whose sweaty chest and golden freckled face, contorted in pure ecstasy, would tug at his heart like a fishing boat upon the ocean.

“Fuck, _yeah_ , Cas, ah!” Dean shouts when Cas increases the rhythm, hitting his sweet spot, and he’s aware that Dean is close from the way his eyes are rolled back, lovely rose pink mouth slack and spine bending. He desperately shoves himself onto Cas’ cock, pelvis rutting, chasing his release through obscene gasps.

“Almost there,” Cas coaxes.

His lactified muscles burn, steady hips turning erratic. He loses his grip on Dean, jerking him off sloppily, yet he is determined to expend his remaining energy for both their pleasures. 

Cas fucks into Dean at a too-vigorous pace, newfound strength possessing his searing limbs, and his husband finally breaks apart.  

“Yes, yes— _CAS_!”

Dean moans low and long, the tsunami of orgasm sweeping him away. His grip on Cas _hurts,_  fingers scrabbling at his ass and bowed legs squeezing his waist, but the swift clenching of Dean’s walls destroys Cas’ sanity. Cas’ thrusts turn brutal, slamming inside him, inside Dean’s veins; Cas’ body seizes when he comes. 

Dean, surprisingly, is still coming. Hot thick ropes splatter Cas’ belly, Dean making choked “ _Ngh, ungh_ ” noises against Cas’ neck.

Captivated, Cas observes his husband amongst the haze.

Dean has always expressed a ravenous desire to bottom—to surrender his authority to Cas in a sensual, coy display of trust.

Cas now understands the appeal.

“I love you, Dean. I love you,” Cas murmurs, hushing Dean’s soft sobs with wet kisses, and Dean clings to him, riding their peaks.

Tears escape the corners of Dean’s eyes.

Cas kisses them away, and Dean whimpers when he pulls out. Retrieving a disposable wet cloth from the master bathroom, he wipes his limp husband clean, meticulous in his care, ever gentle. Then he washes himself and throws the soiled fabric into the hamper. 

Once he returns, he sees Dean grinning up at him, tired but sated. Content. An otherworldly tan seems to permeate his freckled skin, and he blinks, feathery lashes framing those glowing tree green eyes.

His husband was the most beautiful man Cas had ever seen in his life. 

“Mhm,” Dean hums, hands reaching for Cas’ cheeks. “Love ‘ya too. We have two hours, so stop starin’ and kiss me.”

He does.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](http://naruhearts.tumblr.com)


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